


Loyalties Lie

by MacabreVanity



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacabreVanity/pseuds/MacabreVanity
Summary: Lotor and his generals crash land on Vesra XI, a colony struggling to fight off a rebel attack. Can the young Galran Prince set aside his differences with a long-standing enemy in order to pool their strengths, and overcome the rebel forces?





	Loyalties Lie

Prince Lotor had been in some bad situations before, but usually they were only him and his generals. They had crashed onto a colony, on planet Vesra XI. The colony had a long-standing issue with rebels, and not three vargas ago, the rebel fighters had taken down one of the Galra's main flagships- the _Vrekar_ \- killing hundreds of Galra colonists and soldiers. Soldiers he needed right now.

The young leader felt sick, his ears pressed flat against the sides of his head, and his hands shook slightly as he looked over the reports of the enemy forces; their current position was not good. He had a group of civilians--not prepared for battle--and they were in what could be considered a fortified area. The building was strong, yes, but it would not last forever.

Zethrid, Narti and Ezor were doing an amazing job holding the line, but skilled as they were, they were only three generals. Acxa was working on setting up those he was protecting, well commanding, with makeshift armor and weapons. _Fight for Galra_ , she was bound say, _Vrepit Sa, Die Well, Honor becomes you;_ all of the usual well wishes before a battle.

Worse yet, one of those damned Druids, pulled from the _Vrekar_ 's wreckage, was nearby, putting him even more on edge.

Lotor wasn't sure if they were going to win; tactical genius or no, poor odds were just that. He couldn't make miracles, only educated guesses and measured decisions. "Acxa, Unit IV is going to the north west corner of Vrexis square. The forces there are thinner, we will cut off their advance there. We must keep them contained. I have received word Narti and Ezor disabled the rebels' last ship; they are grounded for the next quintant or two."

Three floors below the command center, that damned Druid was doing it’s work, and Lotor couldn’t be bothered to know what it exactly was.

* * *

Three flights below the young Prince, the Druid meditated in a shallow pool of quintessence. There was something about the almost-peaceful nature of the meditative stance that made it enticing, especially in times like these. Maintaining the 'almost' was the tricky part; too little focus the whole exercise was pointless, too much risked losing awareness of the world outside.

Currently, giving up any awareness of the world outside would be a very bad idea. To be surrounded by rebel forces, that was unfortunate. To have lost the other two members of his triad, detrimental, but he would endure. No, the real problem at the moment was… Such thoughts were a distraction. The Druid had a different purpose: Protect the Emperor, Serve the Empire, Master the Quintessence, Fulfill your Charge. Those were his orders, and right now, he could best fulfill the second by continuing his work.

Closing his eyes behind his mask, the Druid extended his other sense along the tides of Quintessence, feeling out the ebbs and flows in the pool around him. Within their basecamp, there were the civilians mustered up; tired but brave. He considered doing things to bolster them and their strength, but discarded such thoughts. His efforts would serve better elsewhere.

Pressing outward, he sensed the buildings, the fortifications. The enemy forces had no Druids among their numbers, no workers of the Art hiding them from his eyes. Alone, at his current strength and this range, his vision was only so clear. He steadied his breath, focusing in on the town square. He could do this, he must do this; for the Empire.

Opening his eyes, he trembled only a little as he waved a soldier over. Normally, he would have approached the Commander of the Company himself to deliver news of his vision, but in this case… _No, a messenger would be sufficient._

He gave his murmured command to the Galra soldier, then made him repeat them twice before nodding him on.Good, there was no need to expend precious magic to ensure the proper words reached the young Prince. Now, he could rest a little.

 

* * *

The man approached the war council, bowing to the young prince and waiting for acknowledgment. When Lotor looked to him to speak, he began. "Sir, intel from the Druid. The rebels have placed proximity mines around the northern borders of Vrexis Square, but are unable to trigger them remotely. He also states they have laid a trap in Sector Seventeen's Garrison, in the armory. End of report, sir." The man slapped his fist to his chest in salute.

"The mines will be their undoing." Lotor glanced over his shoulder. "Acxa, arm two of Unit IV with our best sharpshooters. A disarming team is required to go with them, as well. We're going to use the rebels bombs against them." A predatory smirk crossed his features. Can't detonate them remotely… well, not the traditional way. Tossing the mines and shooting them from afar would work well enough.

He turned back to the soldier, giving him a dismissive wave. "Vrepit Sa; return to your post. I'll have a word with our Druid."

There was a deafening explosion outside. It was enough to shake the building, and a few crumbling splutters of dust fell on them from the ceiling. The ringing in his ears was perhaps the least awful thing that'd happened today, and he pushed on, heading to where the Druid had stationed itself. The ringing had faded by the time he arrived.

He sighed, ears lowering momentarily as he composed himself before approaching. "Druid, I came discuss your report, and to give you a momentary reprieve." Momentary was the key word.

At the approach of the prince, the Druid’s body seemed to involuntarily tense; however, the thick brown robes it wore flowed enough to keep the reaction in question, the angular mask giving the same mercy to its face as it composed itself.

To any that were not sensitive as the Druid was, to the tides and waves of quintessence, it would appear as calm and wraithlike as the Order encouraged its members to be. To the very limited few in this room who were, whose numbers it could count on one hand and still have fingers remaining, well...it’s reaction would hardly be a surprise, anyway.

 

"You say there's a trap laid in the armory, but your missive didn't have details on what sort. Please elaborate." Lotor couldn't let his distaste of the Druid spill over now; the creature had been most beneficial thus far- almost as much as his generals. The prince drew a long, thin vial from his breast pocket, the liquid quintessence inside glowing a faint blue. "This is to restore your energy stores, as your information is not free."

The Druid gave a lift of it’s head as the Prince began speaking, enough to show proper respect and acknowledgement to his words. It looked down at the vial as it was offered, hesitating for a moment. While the mask imparted a mildly haunting distortion-effect on it’s voice, it nonetheless attempted to remain schooled and diplomatic. "Our Power is given to us to serve the Empire; we may only pray it is a worthy expense."

Unfolding long, thin hands from opposite sleeves, the Druid politely took the vial, carefully keeping his fingers from touching the Prince's own hand. "Nonetheless, this gift is appreciated, Sire." The vial and hand were soon hidden within the folds of the sleeves, as the Druid shifted mental gears to address the previous subject.  
.  
"Two rebels spoke of the trap as we were scrying over Vrexis Square," it intoned, speaking as calmly and professionally as the mask would allow. "We have taken a vision of the armory to confirm. These rebels are savage and poor in their equipment, but clever in implementation. A tripwire has been crudely concealed across the entrance, to lower the guard of any investigating. It is connected to a very weak, low-yield explosive near the main door. The true trap is the access panel to the armory. It has been replaced with a pressure plate to trigger then blast. Additional explosives are scattered throughout the weapons racks, and within the ammunition canisters." The Druid paused, mentally running over the list of issues, then added, "They have also replaced the food-gel in the dispensers with lift-trac fuel, and rigged a crude spark generator should it be touched."

 

Lotor gave a small, respectful nod as he listened to the description of the traps laid out in the armory, his lip pulled up in a silent snarl. The prince’s fangs were bared- but not at the Druid- a joyless look in his eyes. "A waste, really. I hoped we could have used their traps against them, but it seems like reckless endeavor to try to venture there. I'll have Narti relay this infor...” his voice trailed off, ears perking up and gaze going distant as it lowered.

Feeling Narti reach out to his mind with hers, Lotor let her take over his sight, however momentary. The physical space before him dissipated to share with him what Kova saw. Dark, indoors; not Galra territory- rebels, leader, demands. _Pain. Pain! Wants something, wants him to know-_ who to know? _Lotor- needs to know- have his spy, his general. Important, important! Leader! Behind, in white, leader- there, fool. Shows his face- his face!_

His hands grasped air, and he opened his mouth a bit wider, breathless words escaping him. "Druid, listen carefully, act quickly. Pinpoint Narti’s location, no matter what happens. I need to know exactly where she is. Be prepared to track fading quintessence. The leader- I, the rebel leader, he's-" His face scrunched in focus, trying to speak clearly while Narti was so desperately funneling an overwhelming amount of information to him. "They’re in white. Possibly behind and to her right. When you find him, tell me his location, once Narti is done sharing her thoughts with me."

_TANG OF STEEL, COLD. SHARP, DANGER._

He winced, reaching up and holding his head. She was so loud, so desperate- everything was so raw; he wasn't used to this level of psychic connection, and it felt like it was rending his head in two. He felt a sharp pain, at the base of his neck, before thought, sensation, and distinction between himself and Narti disintegrated. It was a violent feedback of pure energy and pain, the Prince recoiled and stumbled as if he were struck, claws extending as his face twisted in pain. As suddenly as the pain erupted, it disappeared, and he couldn't feel Narti anymore. He frowned, stunned at the abrupt lack of information, the silence, ears starting to pin back.

She was gone.

He felt, experienced her death, and the thought was far more disturbing than witnessing it. To feel someone’s final moments, so wholly as if it was his own. Lotor shook his head, running a hand through his hair, exhaling a shaky breath. "Did...did you find him, Druid."

 

* * *

Worn as he was, the Druid could hardly miss the way the Prince's voice trailed off mid-word, nor the way the flow about him shifted and weaved like the telltale ripples of a krunchva slipping beneath the surface of a sandy beach.

Ignoring the pained protests of his tired body and frayed nerves, he opened his senses to the Flow. Carefully he listened to the echoes and watched the ghostly shadows dance by as the Prince and his companion, or rather, the companion of his companion, shared their minds and their senses for an eternity of heartbeats.

By the time his Prince opened his mouth to issue orders, the Druid had already pushed his mind up the stream to the alien, yet strangely familiar mind on the other end. Animal minds were not unknown to him, though this one was clearly no ordinary beast by any measure.

Convincing the creature the Druid was an ally was both easier and more difficult than might be expected; all the same, the creature grudgingly allowed the Druid to share his senses while, on another current of rippling quintessence, the prince listened to her increasingly frantic thoughts.

The one in white, he is their leader. Remember him. Remember his face. Remember his flow, his pattern, his weave. We must learn him, know him, mark him. Noble _creature,_ he projected a little louder, sending his thoughts towards the beast, _as it please you, we ask that you touch this one's form as you will - a light brush, a claw across the leg, however you--_

Three minds froze in silence, three sets of throats choked with unsounded screams. Burning, freezing, ripping, an impossibly thin and unfathomably wide edge severing all sensation and leaving behind only everything and nothing.

There were voices, a chorus, a choir, a cacophony of voices all around him, screaming, crying, begging, demanding, pleading. All different, all the same, all speaking the same message -

_Help her! Save her!_

The sheer power of the thought, the emotion, nearly sent him reeling. So simple, so raw, yet so pure-- he'd never felt anything like it before. Against such a tide... how could he refuse?

Pain was a distraction; it would only delay him, and he had less than the space between two ticks. He discarded it.

Words were a distraction; they would slow them all down. Quintessence did not listen to words, it listened to will, and to the heart...

She was dying, and yet, she was not dead. In this moment, this infinite moment of infinities, he could see her; not her form, not her shape, not even her mind. He could see her. And so, he reached out to the her that she was, and carefully, carefully gathered her up, until she sat, all of her, in his hand. A tiny, shining star, in his palm.

She will need a place to be, he did not think; thinking would require words, would need time, would waste precious slivers of the already unravelling tick. But his heart, his will, knew what he needed, what this life-in-a-star needed, and made it known clearer than words would do. She will need a shelter sanctuary home place of rest place to sleep place to be protected. She will need protection.

And then there was Protection, Sanctuary, Shelter beside him, promising to keep her safe, to keep her warm, to let her rest. He would shelter her, watch over her, only please, save her.

 _We will save her, noble creature,_ his heart spoke for him, as the last slivers of the tick shaved themselves free. _We will save her...together._

His body hit the floor with a heavy thump. His mind reeled as he struggled to draw himself back from the inner-world to the world outside, to comprehend the world of matter and sight and sound and touch once more.

There were voices - no, one voice. A familiar voice, a known voice, speaking words he could not understand. He would worry about that in a moment; for now, he had a more important message to deliver.

Forcing himself to his hands and knees, the Druid could not quite manage to raise his head. Nonetheless, his voice was firm, and strong, and cold as ever, even through the distortion of the mask.

"We have saved her, Sire."


End file.
